


Semiconscious

by Krispyeye



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, M/M, Phobias, Rape, Rape Recovery, Sexual Content, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:33:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krispyeye/pseuds/Krispyeye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard Way is a depressive young man whose life is spiralling out of control. on his final night on earth, Gerard goes to his local watering hole to give himself some dutch courage to end his life once and for all.<br/>Upon leaving the bar, Gerard chances on a situation that could just save his life.<br/>Comfort/Recovery fanfiction, mainly fluff with touches of smut ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chance

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!  
> This is my first ever fic so please feel free to leave comments (if it's critique please be kind, I'm only human:))  
> Updates might be slow because I have college coursework to deal with as well so just please be patient!   
> Hope you guys enjoy! *^_^*

_I'm out of my fucking mind._

Or at least, that's what I thought as my sunken, fatigued eyes bore down on the small bottle of pills that fit snugly in the crinkled palm of my hand. I stared through the translucent orange plastic, eye to eye with the small pebbles of medicine that would soon be my resolution. It's funny how something so miniscule could mean the end for something as important as a 'life', if I could even call it that. Truth be told I was painfully close to pills and bottles such as this, but usually after getting so excrutiatingly close to the blissful end my thoughts would reintroduce agonising scenes of my poor, ragged mother finding my lifeless slump of a body.

I had never felt important, and at this one dismal moment in my failing life I wonder if these pills did either.  Well, whether they did or not they were certainly important to me. Casting my impeding thoughts aside I gripped the engraved lid of the pill bottle, my skin uncomfortably purchasing against the painful lines as they shifted under my strength. The lid was off, and I emptiedthe little pellets onto the centre of my sweaty palm.

It was then that my interrogative eyes probed past their drooping, tear stained lids; my gaze falling on the pills in a new light, my brain buzzing with adrenaline, with hope that I would finally end my piteous life.

Was it worth it? My mind combed through my memories once again, selecting several of the worst to persuade my desperate brain's case. My mother's stained, vacant eyes as she told me of my father's passing. The aching string of nightmares that followed afterwards, leading to the development of my minor hydrophobia.

"Gerard?" I recall her strained, weary voice as she stumbled into my room to discover me awake for the hundreth time.

I had never been able to sleep, not properly. Not since he died.

My focus snaps back to elastic, I can't do it. Not to her. I breathe deeply and deposit the pills back into their pellucid prison, sighing heavily and laying my wary head in my hands. I need a fucking drink, regardless of how late it is. Forcing my exhausted body to stand, I will my legs to snap from their frigid positions in cradling my elbows and lumber the rest of me to my disgustingly unkempt kitchen, littered with empty liquor bottles and takeaway cartons alike. I snap open the refridgerator door with a crack, and peer nosily inside at the grimy grey contents. A mouldy jar of pickles months out of date, remnants of a six pack of beer and a half empty ketchup bottle. Great.

My slimy hand runs down my body to finger the frayed pocket mouth of my dirty jeans, and my mouth opens with excitement as my finger comes into contact with a bunch of crinkled notes. Eyeing the small leather jacket hanging on it's ever faithful hook in the doorway I stand fully, rubbing my moist hands on my grubby jeans in an attempt to dry them quickly. I pace over to the slanted and splintered doorway to retrieve my coat, the crave to taste burning alcohol starting low in my parched throat.

All this suicide business made me unexplainably thirsty.

The burning sensation at the bottom of my throat climbed until it reached my throbbing tongue - I grab the jacket, feeling the faded leather run over my fingertips, I glance back warily at my shabby flat, refreshing the flaws of my habitat and introducing a fresh biting edge to my already destructive mood. This place had been a cataclysm in my life since entering the sloppy, disordered hallway on the day I left my mother's house for good.

I shake my head numbly, my mind brooding over her shaking voice as she called my cellphone that day, when I stated that I simply wasn't good enough to be her child anymore, or anyone's for that matter.

I disregarded this as another fruitless attempt to stay and finish what I had started - my future existence, so to speak.

Swallowing the bile rising up my throat I draped the jacket over my shoulder and threw open the heavy door, now aware of the bitter cold knives of wind wiping their icy hilts upon my bare cheeks. I stepped out and locked the door with a rusty clank, and set to plod miserably to the nearest bar; and, alone with my thoughts, have the last drink of my life.


	2. Saviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait you guys! Hope it's worth it :)  
> Also, I can't seem to indent so I'm sorry that the paragraphs look so chunky here /:
> 
> Enjoy!

I stumble down the stone steps into the dismal street I reside in. Faded paintwork, cracking and peeling at the edges; these crumbling buildings edged the busy city nightlife, the blaring police sirens still loud enough to keep you watchful at night. I skip over the patchwork of broken sidewalk and clench my teeth, painfully reminiscing the few times my intoxicated ass had fallen over it.

Intoxicated...

My eyes brighten as I remember the small, transparent packet in my jacket pocket. Pulling one of the small pink pills out, I feel the slight engravement of a love heart with my grubby fingers; glancing skittishly sound the street, I pop one of the pills on my tongue and urge my exhausted throat to swallow.

* * *

I just make it to the dirty glass doors of my favourite watering hole, The Inn, when the intense yet familiar effects start to kick in. The dim lights of this bar seem to glare so bright the back of my skull burns, I feel my exhilarated pupils expand and retract to this change from my newly attentive brain. I realise that I have been gazing at these enchanting lights for more than enough, so I giddily turn on my heel and shoot across to the bar; oblivious to the fact that a few minutes earlier, I had been ready to end it all.

"Norris!" I exclaim excitedly, making the fragile man jump out of his withering skin.

"Gerard... Same as usual?" Norris winked with a crinkly eye, gathering himself and setting down a moderately clean glass tumbler on the bartop and filling it with a clear, amber liquid. I smile wolfishly and hand him the crumpled notes of money, clenching my knuckles until they burned white. My throat sears, the ugly head of addiction rearing and driving me into raw insanity. I almost snatch the glass from the old bartender's spotted hand, gulping down the contents in a few mere seconds. Norris eyes me with slight suspicion, I know what he's thinking.

But I couldn't give a fuck.

I finish the rest of my drink and swing the chair 360 degrees, chuckling lightly under my breath as the drink trickles down my body, leaving a white-hot trail behind.

"Another?" Norris smiles, his greying eyes twinkling under the glow of the bare lightbulb. I nod, a little too vigorously, licking the last of the liquid heat from my cracked lips.

* * *

I barely recall the wonderful blur of the next three glasses before I deter that I am indeed drunk enough to end my own being. I thank Norris in a slur and bid him goodnight, then try reeling out of the door and into the harsh night outside. I shuffle to the filthy back alley of the old bar and unbutton my crappy jeans to take a leak, my head resting against the flakily painted wall.

My head snaps up unusually quick, and I take a moment to regain some vision as my fatigued eyes tried to keep up with my excitable brain's demands, what I found before me was the most disgusting and barbaric sight I have ever witnessed.

Two dark silhouettes are writhing in the dusty beam of a street lamp, which as I gingerly moved closer I noticed the nauseating scene before me was much worse than a couple engrossed in passion. The older guy was scruffy, with a rugged beard and unkempt clothes, probably one of the bar's patrons. I thought they may have been fighting, and was about to back away slowly when the older man pinned the younger to the soiled wall and began thrusting violently. He didn't seem to be from around here, his clothes looked pristine, his hair neatly combed.

Whoever this unfortunate kid was, he needed help, and I desperately needed to clear my faltering conscience. Forgetting that I was delicately small, and this guy seemed quite brawny, the thick muscles of his arm moving in a sickening rhythm.

I managed to move my legs, now stiff with adrenaline; and ran over drunkedly, smacked the guy square in his surprised face. I felt his large nose crunch repulsively under my bloodied fist, and he flopped to the gravel below him.


	3. Can you stand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter guys, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! :3

As soon as he lands face down on the sharp gravel of the alley, I turn to the kid.

He's slumped behind one of the garbage cans with his head in his hands, I hear a muffled sob and I sigh softly - I could've saved this kid the worst and most painful experience of his young life had I been there a few precious seconds earlier.

I deliberately step quietly and slowly over to him, not wanting to startle the poor guy any more.

"Hey?" I murmur gently, kneeling on the floor beside his quivering form. He looks up at me for a split second, and I get a look at his tear stained face. He was young, younger than I thought; his soft jawline cast a shadow down his slender neck. His eyes glint anxiously past the sweep of his dark fringe, as his glistening lips part slightly, another faint sob bursts through.

He wasn't bad looking, and I wasn't even sure if I bent that way. His entire body retched as he tried to regain his breath through his convulsive weeping, breaking my train of thought. His nimble arms wrapped around his tiny body, trying hysterically to warm himself despite the fact he was sweating with fear.

I needed to get him out of here.

"Can you stand?" I question meekly, he nods shakily -and hoists himself up on his fragile legs, latching hurredly onto the trashcan beside him.

"Come on." I urge him, but his trembling legs give way and he collapses, pulling down the rusty trashcan with a ringing clatter that bounced down the narrow walls of the alley. I lean forward and tenderly hook both of my hands under his armpits. "I'm going to pick you up, okay?" I ask gently, unhooking one of my hands to brush his tangled hair from his sweaty brow.

I manage to get a proper look at this guy’s face, which was far from unattractive, to say the least. I cup his juttering chin, my icy fingers mingling with his heated skin. I jerk his head up, and his frantic eyes connect with mine.

My greying, weathered eyes search his, looking for an answer; he nods his head feebly, and my hands resume their position under his arms. I hug his slumped, frail body close to mine, and slowly begin to stand. Whimpering, he clutches me closely, to my surprise; I stand up fully now, and begin walking back to my house.

I glance back hurriedly to see the slumped figure of his attacker start to rise, as step by quickened step I left him further behind in the dark, narrow alleyway.


End file.
